


Moritz Stiefel's Group for Lost Boys

by astronomicallan



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, but still, i mean that's kinda obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 13:26:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10854912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronomicallan/pseuds/astronomicallan
Summary: Pretty much how the sad people from musicals who killed themselves spend their time in the afterlife, or at least how I imagine that?Inspired by some tumblr post that my friend told me about over the phone, so shout out to whoever wrote that I guess! (Update: thank you to baz_is_a_skeez who wrote the prompt! No longer a mysterious void person!)





	Moritz Stiefel's Group for Lost Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This is my first time having a go at writing, so please, play nice. I'm a sensitive person. (Not really, sorry. You can criticise all you want.)

It took him some time to come to terms with, and to understand, what was going on. He, Moritz Stiefel, was dead, and it was his own damn fault.

There were other people in the room, or whatever it was he was in. It was like a ridiculously sterile, almost painfully bright, waiting room, only the room seemed to be able to go on forever. He could probably start walking and never reach anywhere.

The people never looked at him. They never spoke. They were too wrapped up in their own sadness to interact.

He reached up and touched his head. Huh, it seemed like whatever this afterlife was had fixed what he assumed would be a pretty nasty wound. Still, it hurt like hell. Or maybe it was an imagined pain.

Oh God, the reality set in. He was dead. He was really, really dead. He would never grow up, or get married, or do anything. But, on the other hand, he was free! No more worries over school. No more letting his parents down. He wondered how everyone was dealing with his death. They probably wouldn’t even notice. His father would be glad, he could tell people that he had no son and that would be the full truth. Moritz felt his slight guilt ease at the thought of his father being grateful. Then, there were his friends. His slight guilt suddenly manifested itself into a train of regret and guilt, and the train hit him full force. Melchior didn’t have a best friend anymore. Sure, he’d get on fine, but Moritz couldn’t help the sudden sadness he felt. 

And the others. Wendla. Ilse. Ernst. All the others who probably didn’t care about him, but still his death might affect them. Moritz sat down and cried.

-

“Hey, didn’t shorts go out of style, like, five centuries ago?”

None of the people (were they even people?) interacted with anyone, but this newcomer seemed to have confidence beyond Moritz’s belief. 

“What’s up? My name’s JD, or Jason Dean if you’re feeling fancy.”

Moritz didn’t say anything; this new guy was quite…something.

“Are you mute or something? Or do you just not like me?” The new guy, JD, smirked at him.

“Oh no, no, I like you. I mean, I’ve only just met you, but I tend to like most people.” He paused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Also, my name is Moritz Stiefel, and I don’t have a shortened version of my name really. Sorry”

The boy who had introduced himself as JD laughed. “Great to meet you Moritz! Good to know I’m not gonna be stuck with a silent guy for eternity!” 

Moritz stared at him. “Wait, you mean you’ve figured this out already? How, you’ve only just got here!”

“Well, I figured that I’m dead, and I figured that you were dead, because seriously, who wears shorts in this day and age?”

“What…what time is it? The year I mean, what year is it?” Moritz asked, slightly concerned. The clothes this new boy was wearing seemed odd, but that could just be down to cultural differences. He did not sound German, not at all. Moritz recognised the long coat, having seen similar dark coats on men from the city, but the rest of this boys attire was a mystery.

“Last time I checked, 1989. But who knows, could’ve moved on again!”

Moritz didn’t speak. So it had been almost a century he’d spent here. Some days it didn’t feel like time was passing at all. Other times it felt like a blur.

“How did you die, Jason Dean?”

“You know, I’ve actually changed my mind. Don’t call me that, JD works.”

“Sorry, how did you die, JD?”

Moritz seemed truly apologetic for calling him by his full name, but still he asked his question. JD wasn’t exactly shy or regretful, so decided to share.

“Well, you see, I was going to blow up my school.” He paused for dramatic effect, taking pleasure in seeing Moritz’s eyes grow wide. “But my girlfriend was all like ‘JD, that kills people!’ so I decided against it. Or rather she shot me and that put a bit of a damper on my plans for mass murder. And then I blew myself up.”

For whatever reason, talking about how he died didn’t hurt as much as he had thought. Even knowing that he had left Veronica behind wasn’t affecting him as much as he believed it would. 

“I’ve been thinking, since I’ve apparently had a pretty long time to think about it, but I think we’re in hell. I know it’s not how they describe it, but we’re being punished. For…for killing ourselves.”

JD paused. He wasn’t exactly renowned for his empathy, but this nervous boy’s words hit him. “How old are you, Moritz?” he asked in a surprisingly gentle voice.

“15 I think. Or at least I was.”

That hit JD even more. Sure, there were only three years between the two, but still, 15. Having your life end at 15 is too much. He didn’t have time to experience anything. 

“How did you die, since we’re sharing stories?”

“I shot myself.” Moritz said this simply, then sat down on the ground and held his knees.

-

“Hey, new guy! Yeah, you!”

“The fuck do you want?” said “new guy”. JD immediately took to him. Moritz stiffened slightly at the language. You would think he would be used to it by now, having his two main influences being JD, and Melchior before him. But it was still slightly shocking to be greeted like that.

“My good friend Moritz and I were just making sure that you’re all good, it’s not much of a welcoming committee but it’s better than nothing!”

“What is this place anyway?” The new guy didn’t seem to have the same level of self-awareness that JD had first had, nor did he seem to have the same vague cheerfulness Moritz possessed.  
Moritz decided to step up in his self-appointed role as head-greeting person. “Well, you’re dead. Sorry about that. But you seem to get to spend time with us, which of course you don’t have to, you can ignore us. Or just me. Because JD’s cool. I’m not very cool. But yeah, you’re dead.”

“Nice.” The new arrival seemed to think his situation over. “So, you’re Moritz, right?” he asked, pointing in Moritz’s general direction. “And JD?”

JD did an awkward finger guns movement at the newcomer, Moritz only waved.

“And who might you be, my long-haired friend?”

The newcomer frowned, but then smiled. “Connor. Is it just me or is death really not all that it’s cracked up to be?”

“Oh tell me about it. Or tell Moritz about it! He’s has about a century more of this shit that I have. What year is it anyway?”

“It was like, 2015, my guy. So we’re like, stuck here forever then?”

“It sure seems that way.”

There was a moment of silence, with each boy avoiding eye contact with the others. JD took it upon himself to break this up. 

“Not to be rude or anything, but did you, you know, kill yourself?”

JD spoke confidently and Moritz looked up; both were looking at the newcomer, Connor, for an answer.

“I don’t have to tell you shit.” Connor replied angrily.

“I mean, you don’t have to, but we assumed and your answer kinda answered for you. Moritz here shot himself, and I blew myself the fuck up. Just trying to get to know you.”

Moritz took the more caring approach. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Connor looked at this boy, Moritz. He was calm and seemed genuine. Looking into his eyes, Connor could see that shy guy from his school staring back at him. Evan, that was his name. Connor knew that. He signed the guys cast; both of them needed to appear as though they actually had friends. Connor felt what could be regret. Evan didn’t deserve Connor’s anger directed at him. He’d done nothing wrong, besides writing that letter. And even that wasn’t a crime. It was too late to make amends now. But he could be nice to this new guy. 

“Not really, but yeah, that’s how I think I died. I mean, I know I’ve tried, but I guess it finally worked.”

Connor seemed happy so who was JD to question him.

“Well, either way, welcome to our impromptu support group for troubled youths.” JD said dryly. “We’ve got a pretty long time to talk about our biggest fuck-ups!”  
Connor and Moritz exchanged looks. 

-

“Why don’t we all just talk, feel, together!” JD was determined to bring his merry band of sad boys together, and found himself (to his disgust) echoing the words of that idiot of a teacher, Ms. Fleming.

“I would, as the kids say, rather not.” Connor said.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s not such a bad idea. Better to get it out than to keep it in.” Moritz tried to be the reasonable one.

“Yes, but you see, there aren’t really going to be consequences for that, are there? I mean, we can’t kill ourselves again.” Connor was proving to be incredibly uncooperative, something which made JD frown.

“Ah, right you are Mr New Guy, however, I don’t want to be stuck in this room forever with a bunch of depressed people.”

“Probably shouldn’t have killed yourself then.” Connor quipped.

“I wasn’t going to! Honestly, I should wait until we’ve gathered enough people so I don’t have to keep sharing this story.” JD took a moment to glare at Connor, which was slightly overdramatic. “I was going to blow up my school, and we were going to take out all the idiots in the world.” 

“Wait, we?” Connor asked.

Since JD seemed to be deep in his thoughts of mass murder, Moritz took it upon himself to explain. “Yeah, he wanted his girlfriend to join him. But apparently, she wasn’t up for that. I don’t blame her.” 

They both looked over to JD, who seemed to be performing a dramatic speech in his head, if his occasional arm gestures and facial expressions were anything to go by.

“Well, did you want to talk about it? I mean, while he’s out of it?” Moritz asked quietly.

“I think I’m good thanks. You got anything to share?”

“Not really. I think we’ll get on well Connor.”

Connor smiled. It may have taken some time, but it seemed as though he actually had a friend.


End file.
